It's Nice To Meet You!
by anardentauthor
Summary: It's Effie's first time in District 12, and she's incredibly nervous. Haymitch doesn't exactly make her feel any better.


Effie Trinket was ashamed.

She had been training to be an escort for the Capitol for several years, but had

failed her final exams twice consecutively, and had just barely passed this

time. Honestly, how hard was it to smile 24/7? And how necessary was it? As long

as you were encouraging and dedicated your time to making sure the contestant's

last few days mattered, was 't that enough?

No, because according to the Capitol, a neutral presentation equaled a neutral

audience. And neutral equaled boring and bored...respectively.

She was sure she could appear delighted at anything, now, including unfortunate

and underprivileged children, because those were the only kind she was good

enough for, apparently.

She had been assigned to District 12. Although she had never actually left her

comfortable Capitol home, she knew the members of District 12 were practically

savages. She'd seen the old tapes of the reapings. The crowds were practically

wearing flour sacks, they were so poor. There's a reason they only had one

living mentor: Poor people are weak people, and weaklings never fare well, nor

do they entertain. And their one living victor-Haystack Abernatch, or something

like that-was a complete slob. It was only a few years after he'd won the

tournament and he was a mess. If she was a victor, she'd be proud and appreciate

what respect she garnered. Not waste the opportunity of stardom.

She constantly checked her makeup during the train ride on her way to the

district. She wanted, as always, to look perfect, and she did, with her lovely

taffeta dress the crinkled when she sat. She'd brought almost all her beautiful

clothes-she'd need their comfort in the coming weeks. They were her only

reminder of her home, which would be far, far, _far_ away.

It was two days until her big debut when she would announce this year's

competitors. So, she decided, she would visit the mentor after she unpacked.

Even though he only made a brief appearance onstage, it was important-and he'd

certainly messed up his only 2. Last year's was especially horrid, she recalled.

That was the first time he'd ever appeared drunk. Effie wondered if he would be

this time.

Her temporary abode was small, dilapidated, and much worse than she was

expecting. This was supposed to be the best lodging that District 12 offered!

Hopefully it was all a mix-up.

After taking several hours to unpack, she found Victor's Village with the help

of some townspeople. They were sweet, but downright disgusting. She'd have to

help everyone learn how to shower. Maybe tomorrow.

The building in which the mentor was supposed to live was easy to spot. It was

the largest house in the District, and yet the worst looking. The lawn was

brown. The windows were cracked and dusty. She wasn't sure if anyone lived

there. Still, she tapped on the door three times. It opened after a very long,

perhaps a minute long, wait.

In the door stood a tall, thin man with long, dark, disheveled hair, and

bloodshot grey eyes with flecks of blue. His thin, loose-fitting, blouse was

half-tucked into tattered, baggy pants.

Effie did not show her repulsion one bit. "Hello," she said with a large smile,

"Am I speaking to Mr.…?"

"Haymitch Abernathy," he said gruffly, looking her up and down. "You're from the

Capitol," he stated. "Honey, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She kept smiling. "You know, it really is rude to-"

"Oh, right," he said, putting his hands in the air, "Where are my manners? Come

on in." She followed him inside, first noticing the stench of liquor and the

bottles scattered around the floor. A dusty table and a tattered couch were the

only furnishings in the immediate room, save a small television sitting on the

cabinet.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the couch. He went in another room and asked if

Effie wanted something to drink.

"No, thank you," she replied, smoothing her dress. He returned in a moment with

a full glass in one hand and a bottle in the other. The man sat beside her, but

left enough distance between them.

"So," he said, "I'm guessing you're this year's escort, right?"

"Yes, I'm Effie Trin-"

"What happened to the old one?"

"She, ah…she retired."

"She was pretty old," he said. "And you, you're young. Brand new?"

"Yes," she replied after a moment, "And very excited to be here."

He made a noise between a laugh and a snort. "Excited, huh? Sure disappointed

isn't what you mean to say?"

Effie let herself sigh. "You are…certainly not what I expected."

He laughed and took a long sip from his glass. "Oh! Well, what were you

expecting, sweetheart?"

"My name," she said, "Is Ms. Trinket. And I expected somebody with a little

more…_class_."

"Class?" He smirked. "Well, you won't find that here. You better go back to

where you belong, honey."

She had never dealt with anyone like him before and her patience was at an end.

"You are the rudest man I have ever met!"

He smiled at her. "Be glad it's not someone else you're talking to, then."

"You," Effie said with a raised voice, "Are supposed to apologize. And you were

supposed to go through a proper introduction. 'Hello, my name is…And you are…?'

And you should have more respect! The Capitol has made you into something great!

Given you this-" she motioned to the house's interior-"And you don't even take

care of it! Your gall is…is…unbelievable!" Effie made a little noise. "E…Excuse me," she said.

She tried to read his reaction. It was the first time he had shut his mouth for

more than five seconds, and for a moment anger flashed over his tired features.

Then, he smiled. "Aren't you a little young to be a pedant?"

"Aren't you a little young to be an alcoholic?" She retorted.

He laughed. "Age is just a number."

He met her eyes. "Look, honey. I don't know why you're here. Maybe you think you're helping these kids by making their last few days meaningful. Maybe you're a reject and they had to put you somewhere. I don't know. But believe me, as soon as you get into it you'll want out."

Effie had nothing to say. "Well…Well…" She coughed into her sleeve. "Let's change topics, shall we? I came here to ask a favor of you."

"And what's that, sweetheart?"

"I came to ask," she said, smiling straight at him, "If maybe this year you

could…respect the revered tradition of the reaping."

He stared blankly at her, then his eyes drifted upward and he leaned backwards.

"Respect," he repeated slowly with a small smile, "the reaping." Haymitch Abernathy looked at her. "We'll see."

* * *

Effie Trinket was embarrassed. She had high hopes for a successful presentation

of the reaping and a part of her wondered why she had expected perfection in the

first place. She awoke on the morning of the event two hours earlier than usual,

and spent those extra hours applying extra makeup. Effie decided on a lovely

light pink ensemble that's skirt glimmered in the sun whenever she walked. Maybe

it would remind her to sparkle!

She's so funny, she thought.

Effie took a few deep breaths as she made her way to the reaping and to the

stage. It was hard to stay smiling with all the sad eyes probing her. Begging

her. They didn't want to do this! They didn't want the honour of competing in

the most important event of the year! What was wrong with them?

"Hello and welcome to the Hunger Games," she said after the mayor, in keeping

with tradition, announced the names of District 12 victors. The only living one

was nowhere to be seen. "May the odds ever be in your favor!"

"Odds," she heard a voice from behind sneer. She turned slightly and saw

Abernathy, looking exactly as he had yesterday. He was just standing there,

posture slouched, out of place.

"Oh, look," she said brightly, "Our only surviving tribute! Let's give him a round of applause!"

Surprisingly, the audience did just that, and loudly enough for her to demand he

have a seat without everyone else hearing. Once her problem was out of the way,

she resumed as the applause died down.

"As you probably are aware, it's my first year in District 12 and I am

absolutely delighted to be here!"

No response. Just hungry, hollow gazes and Haymitch's mumbling behind her.

"Anyway," she said, "I'm sure you all are just as honoured to be here as I am.

Out of all the people I've seen, you strike me as some of the most…courageous

people I've ever had the pleasure of-"

"Get _on_ with it, honey," yelled the sudden bane of her existence.

She cleared her throat. "Well, I know you're all excited to hear this year's

lucky contestants, so without further ado let's announce this year's tributes!"

She walked as quickly as she could in her high heels to the large, clear bowls

filled with paper slips. "Ladies first!" She declared, pulling out a slip and

slowly opening it.

"Alle Reinhart!"

A meager, mousy girl slowly made her way forward, her blue eyes glimmering, wet.

"Come on, dear, come on," said Effie excitedly. The first contestant she had picked! And not too shabby, either. With a little makeup she could look downright beautiful! She stood, arms clasped, at the edge of the stage.

"Let's all hear it for Ms. Reinhart!"

There were murmurs all around. She heard the chair behind her move. Haymitch was standing. "Come on!" He yelled to the crowd. "Come on, someone take her place! She's a little girl, look at her!" The murmurs got louder, but no one responded. "Come on," he repeated. "There's no way she'll stand a chance, she can't be more than 12! Someone needs to take her place!"

"Sit down!" hissed Effie. He glared at her and backed away until he tripped into

his seat.

"No volunteers?" She said quickly. "Okay then, now let's move on to our male

tribute!" Hastily she pulled out a slip of paper from the top of the second bowl.

"Greyson Lionson!" Lionson…? They had such strange names in District 12! The boy, 17 or 18, strode briskly up to the stage. The surly, well-built teen was a grand juxtaposition to the tiny girl he stood beside.

"Let's hear it for your contestants in the 53rd Hunger Games!" She cheered. The crowd clapped, but their expressions stayed the same.

* * *

Effie Trinket was furious. As soon as she went home and changed out of her heels she marched to Victor's Village and rapped vociferously on Haymitch's door. It opened partially.

"Oh, it's..._you_."

She swallowed the angry lump in her throat. "Well…aren't you going to invite me inside?"

"Oh," he mumbled, opening the door further, "Right, right." He swayed to the side, liquid from the bottle he clutched spilling onto the floor. She wrinkled her nose as she stepped inside. The stench of liquor was even stronger than it was the day prior.

"You…That was some stunt you pulled," Effie said with a smile she was sure wasn't convincing.

"Stunt?" He looked incredibly confused.

"At the ceremony," she said, seating herself in the same place as yesterday, "You know, twenty minutes ago. When you made a mockery of everything the Capitol stands for."

"Mockery?" He repeated, staring blankly at her as he sat in an arbitrary chair a few feet away.

"You are despicable!" She yelled. What was the point of being polite with this man? Clearly he didn't care either way.

"Me," he said. "You sure it's not you that you mean?"

"Me?" She repeated, incredulous. "You're the one with no respect for the

Capitol!"

"Respect?" He laughed and took a long, slow sip out of his bottle. Then he sighed and looked at her, and the intensity of Abernathy's gaze startled Effie.

"Look, honey, I don't think you're a bad person. I just think you're really, really, _really_ ignorant."

He sighed and ran a hand through his greasy hair. "But that's really starting to get on my nerves."

"Me!" She said again. "What have I done?"

He smiled sardonically. "Look at you, with that Capitol accent and that Capitol hair and that Capitol…shit all over your face! You honestly think they're doing something good! Something good for us! Well. Well, here's what they-you-do. They make you spend 6 years of your life living in fear of one day. And when your worst nightmare comes true and you get chosen, no one volunteers to go in your place, not even your own family. They pretend to care. They pretend they'll miss you. But they're just thanking whatever they believe in that their names weren't called."

"I-"

"And then you're forced to go through three days of pretending like you give a rat's ass what anyone thinks of you, just so you might have a chance of staying alive. And if you don't do it right you may as well just give up then and there. That's why mine was a mistake. I wasn't supposed to win. And so that Capitol you love so much punished me for it."

"Well...Well-"

"Oh, and did I forget to mention the part where you have to _murder_ people just like you just to stay alive? There's that, too, and you'll never get away from it." He shook his head. "When you finally think you've forgotten it, someone will remind you. The people in the Districts, they don't respect the victors because they admire them. They're _scared_ of them."

Effie was speechless. "I…Are you sure you're…seeing things correctly? The whole point of the Games is to make sure another rebellion doesn't happen. So many people died for such a needless cause! Thousands, not 23! And…And the days before the Games, well, it's better for it to be happy than morbid, then everyone would be depressed all the time! And…And…"

She stopped when she saw Abernathy's hazy, misty eyes.

"They don't tell you much, do they," he muttered. "And you just tell yourself what you need to hear."

* * *

Effie Trinket was ashamed. It hadn't even been three days and already she

wanted to leave this place.

* * *

Effie Trinket was ashamed and embarrassed and furious. She was all of these

things and more because Haymitch Abernathy had been right.


End file.
